


Find My Muse

by Tabbyluna



Category: Skylanders (Video Games)
Genre: Crushes, M/M, Song writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabbyluna/pseuds/Tabbyluna
Summary: It's difficult finding inspiration. But you'll always find it if you search your heart.
Relationships: Fiesta/Count Moneybone (one-sided)
Kudos: 2





	Find My Muse

**Author's Note:**

> I was given a prompt on tumblr, and since I wrote over 1000 words, it's going up here.

The Count had asked Fiesta to write a song for an upcoming ball. “Something bouncy. Something light. Something the guests can all dance too.” The ball was a sort of tradition. Every two weeks, Count Moneybone would end up throwing a big party for all the new arrivals in the Underworld. Though the party was for the new residents, anyone who wanted to come could celebrate alongside them, just as long as the Count permits it. 

Fiesta had a reliable collection of songs which he usually played. Old songs, little numbers which his mother and her band used to perform. He remembered hearing those songs as a child, and he remembered how he fell in love with music through them. Those songs were all real toe-tappers too. The party-goers always had a great time, dancing and singing and partying to the music. And Fiesta and The Amigos always performed them passionately. But apparently, some of the frequent guests told the Count that the playlist was getting a little stale. “We would like for more songs to be played,” they said. “It would make the party more interesting, instead of the same songs all the time.”

Never one to disappoint the people (could you imagine the damage to his reputation?), the Count listened to the people, and asked his musician to come up with a new song in two weeks. And since Fiesta was never one to disappoint the Count, he agreed. What’s more, he agreed with a smile on his face, and the stress only really sank in once he returned to his quarters. Behind closed doors, far from the Count and in front of his amigos, he panicked. 

Back in the days of his youth, for this incident happened when he had only worked a few years under him, he used to adore the Count. Whenever he crossed paths with him, a fluttery, bubbly feeling would fill his stomach. When he talked to him, he wished that he could hear that voice forever. As much as he hated to admit it, he did have a crush on the Count. And he both hated it and loved the feeling of falling for him.

He wanted to do the job well. And not just because he wanted to do the job well. If he could make a good impression, wow the Count with his skills and reliability, he had hoped that more would blossom out of their relationship. What’s more, he feared what would happen if he failed. Back then, the job didn’t matter nearly as much as disappointing him. According to his mother, he had always been prone to soft-hearted thinking. He spent the first night worrying about what would happen if he failed, ruminating over the worst possible scenarios. And though they tried, he ignored the comforting actions of his amigos all night. And so, as the sun rose, he promised to himself that he would write the perfect song for him. By hook or by crook, he would finish it.

He spent his days holed up in that tiny room. In their room, he had crammed in all his instruments, so they were all within arms reach. His guitar was constantly being strummed, while his horn was occasionally blown. He needed to find some sort of melody. Something which he could construct a song out of. He had no idea what sort of lyrics he could write. But he couldn’t afford to care about lyrics. They needed to perform this song so that party-goers may dance to it. So an instrumental would be adequate for that job.

However, no matter how often he strummed his guitar, no matter how hard he tried to put himself in a creative headspace, nothing came out of it. Half-filled sheet music gathered into messy piles, and pencil shavings grew into mountains in his wastebasket. Yet, no good rhythms or melodies came to him. He had stuck himself behind the desk, and with every passing hour, grew increasingly frustrated at himself. Those few days, he worried and slaved over sheet music. If he were a living thing, he would have been tossing and turning in bed every night.

Eventually, after a few days, his amigos stepped in. They gave him his coat, and ushered him out the door. Their way of saying that cooping himself indoors was not doing him any favours, and he really needed to get outside and clear his mind. And though he resisted at first, by the time they got him out the door and into town with his coat on, he had to admit that a break was just what the doctor ordered.

He took a walk around town, taking in the sights and sounds that their little corner of the Underworld had to offer. A pastime which he always enjoyed. It was like looking at a mixing pot of both space and time. It was true, death was the ultimate unifier. Once you die and become Undead, race, creed, and age truly become irrelevant. 

He walked through the marketplace, watching all the various vendors sell their wares. Whenever he was in a creative bind, he found that walking through the marketplace was always a good way to get inspired. In his opinion, it was an amazing testament to the nature of death. How billions of ideas and people or all walks of like could just come together and create something new. And all because they had gone through a common experience, and were now placed in the same team. There was always something going on at the market. If he took a walk, he always found himself with ideas for three new songs or performances.

That day though, his mind couldn’t focus on his surroundings. He couldn’t focus on the different wares the merchants sold, or the rhythm of the crowds, or even the different types of people present. Walking through the busy streets, the only thing on his mind was the Count. Fear of disappointing the Count. Hope of composing a song which would hopefully satisfy the Count. Love and admiration towards the Count.

That man, so generous and kind. One who was willing to help and bring comfort to the recently deceased. The mere thought of him was enough to make Fiesta’s heart sing. He could write sonatas around all the things he thought made the man great.

And that was when inspiration hit him, like an arrow piercing through his body. Immediately, he dashed back to his room, eager to begin his work on the song he promised Count Moneybone. 

The moment he walked in, he thanked his amigos with a wide smile. They always did know the best ways to get him inspired.

*****

The song was a smash hit at the party. Fiesa blew his horn with all his heart, and his Amigos earnestly kept up with his energy. All party-goers could not help but dance when they heard that new tune, and all around, there was what could only be called ‘life’ in the Underworld. 

That was the first time anyone had ever heard the song, since it had only been completed at the very last minute. They didn’t even write lyrics because of the lack of time. But Fiesta poured his heart into performing, trying his best to make it as entertaining as possible. Creating music, playing music, which reminded him of someone he loved. And after the last note was blown, the whole crowd erupted into cheers and applause and calls for an encore. 

He and his amigos played that song three times in a row. Afterwards, the party needed to cool down, and Fiesta switched over to playing softer, slower music. Soon, people started to leave, and the Count’s servants were coming in to clean up. And by the time the last few guests left, there was almost no one left in the ballroom.

They were on their way back to the tiny bedroom, discussing when the Count would finally get them a bigger room. (“He did promise us. I don’t think he’s the type to so easily break his promises.”) But halfway through their discussion, Fiesta got tapped on the shoulder, and another Amigo pointed towards a growing shadow in the corridor. And after a few seconds, the shadow revealed himself to be Count Moneybone himself.

When they spotted each other, Fiesta had no idea what he could say to him. Did the Count like his performance? Was he satisfied? He had been so wrapped up in performing that he forgot to search for him in the crowd. A nervous feeling filled his heart, as the Count took note of him and walked towards him.

“Good work with the song Fiesta,” he said with a smile. He patted him on the shoulder, and then continued on towards wherever he was heading. That action alone left Fiesta standing there stunned for a good few minutes. 

That night, the little interaction in the hallway was all he could think about. And the only thing he could do that night was smile. Happy with himself and what he had made.  



End file.
